by Sharon Green
Midday came and we stopped to rest a while, but after no more than a few minutes we were walking again. Without food and water we couldn't afford to waste any time, especially since the tangle of woods all around wasn't offering us the option of hunting. We had to walk until we dropped, and then we had to walk some more. Otherwise we'd die there, walled off from what we needed to survive by ages-old vines and bushes and trees. Following the trail had turned out to be a very bad idea, and I no longer thought taking it was some complex enemy ploy. My companion also seemed disturbed over the impenetrability of the forest, and wasn't trying to waste time by dragging his feet.
The minutes and hours continued to go by without doing anything more than making me thirstier, and then we came on a change so abrupt it was almost as though someone had posted a sign. The trail itself didn't widen, but suddenly, practically between one step and the next, the woods were no longer a mass of tangles. The vines seemed to be cleared away as far in as we could see on both sides, just as though gardening ladies had been by not too long ago.
"Thank Evon," my companion said fervently, pausing with me to look around. ''If we’ve reached the point of farthest penetration by hunters, hopefully their village won’t be too much longer down the road. Let's see if we can get there before this heat flattens us.''
''You think there's a village ahead of us?" I asked, hurrying to catch up with the broader strides he was already taking. ''Were you expecting it to be there?''
"I was hoping it would be there," he corrected, now watching the woods more carefully than he'd been doing. ''It seemed to be a safe guess that the holding we found was established with a link back to its starting point - that it was an attempt at expansion rather than the urge to be alone - which made this trail safer for our purposes than the main road. If it had turned out I was wrong we would have had to backtrack without the supplies we'd started with.''
"Getting back to that spring wouldn't have been all that hard,'' I decided, not having considered the option sooner. ''If we couldn't catch something to eat there, we'd deserve to starve. And then we'd have no choice but to find that outlaw camp and do a little raiding, which is something I wish I'd thought of sooner. It would have saved us this walk.''
"By getting us killed?'' he asked, but there was true amusement behind the words, and then he sobered again. ''You know, I don't think any woman I ever met would have kept on walking without a single complaint, or would have passed up the chance to remind me that going this way was something I’d insisted on. You seem to be the answer to any man's prayers to Evon, and I wish I could have - "
He broke off in the middle and simply went back to watching the woods, leaving me wishing I was in front of a practice pole with a sword in my hands. How dare he make me feel guilty for what I'd done to him that morning? And without even realizing he was doing it! He was an enemy, wasn't he? Then why should his compliments make me feel odd, and his belief that he hadn't satisfied me make me want to admit I'd been lying? It wasn't right and it wasn't sane, but burying my fingernails in my palms was the only thing that kept me quiet. For someone playing deep, nasty games he was so horribly - open, and easy to hurt! Why did he have to keep pretending he was nice?
The best thing about my thoughts after that was that they kept me from remembering how thirsty I was. It took me a while to make myself understand that an enemy couldn't be nice, but after that it was a little easier to bury the guilt. I'd never minded cutting down someone who was trying to do the same to me, but drawing blood from a helpless, unarmed victim is more than I have the stomach for. If that's what it took to be a successful ducal heir, maybe I didn't have the makings of one after all.
We trudged on up the trail, seeing the woods thin more and more as we went, and then we came to the place where the forest disappeared into stumps. I knew it had to be the place the villagers had taken building logs from and was about to say something about how much closer we had to be, when Kylin stopped short beside me. I looked up to see that his attention was on what appeared to be a knot of people a short distance away, and then all thoughts of trees and the nearness of the village were gone from me. The main knot of people ahead were all in long skirts and huddled together, and those around them wore trousers and were carrying what couldn't be anything other than quarterstaffs.
"I think you'd better wait here," my companion muttered, his eyes still on the scene ahead, his right hand already reaching over to loosen his sword. ''If that turns out to be something other than what it looks like, I'll call you."
And then he was striding off without waiting for an answer, confidently expecting me to do exactly as I'd been told, silly enough to think I'd believe those men weren't attacking those women in some way. As I immediately followed after, I knew I'd have to revise my previous opinions of his intelligence. If the man really thought I was going to stay behind and do nothing to help, he wasn't stupid, he had mush for brains and was entirely beyond hope.
The closer I got, the easier it was to see that the women who were huddled together were really frightened. The men around them, only six to their ten or more, were laughing as they looked at their intended victims, but it wasn't clear what they were going to make the women victims of. Kylin was about five steps ahead of me, moving quickly but quietly, and suddenly one of the women stepped out away from the huddle to face one of the men.
''I can't believe you’re doing this,'' she said, her voice carrying easily, a mixture of anger and fear in it. "These women haven't hurt you in any way, so how can you - "
''It ain't us as had the hurt, so that makes it worse,'' the man directly before her interrupted, a deep satisfaction of sorts in him. ''All o' you done bad by Grail, an' that's what makes you sinful. Th' priest says sinners deserve what they get and get what they deserve, 'n we're here t'make it so.''
''How can refusing to listen to this new priest be sinful in the eyes of Grail?'' the woman asked in confusion, her voice now unsteady. ''Just because these people want to keep on doing things the way the old priest said was proper, that doesn't mean they - "
''Th' old priest din't know the right way, but this'n do," the man broke in again, having no interest in listening to anything he didn't want to hear. ''Th' priest says you all gotta be punished, 'specially you, an' then there won' be no more who try th' same. We's workin' f'r th' priest, so we's gonna go Home in glory when we go, that's what he says. Now we's gonna get t' it."
The man brought his quarterstaff up to hold it in both hands, and the woman stepped back without taking her eyes from him, knowing well enough that he now stood at the ready. Some of the others behind her began to whimper, all of them trying to huddle into each other, but the "it'' the men were supposed to get started with suddenly faced an unexpected delay.
''You men step away from those women, or you'll be going Home a lot sooner than you were planning on," my companion announced from where he'd stopped, about six feet behind the nearest man. “And if you think there'll be anything glorious about it, take my word for it: there won't be. "
The women looked up as the men whirled around to face the newcomer, snarls covering male faces, hope covering female ones. They all saw that Kylin stood with his sword in his fist, point down but ready to be brought up, body loose and easy and set to move in any way it had to, no sign of tension at the numbers to be faced alone. The man who had done all the talking, unshaven and dirty and slow-looking, glanced around to see that his new opponent was alone, let that fact sink in, then jumped forward to end the challenge as fast as possible.
There have been endless arguments on the subject of a man with a sword facing a man with a quarterstaff, the point of contention being, of course, which one would win. Those who argue always seem to assume true skill on the part of both fighters, which usually means those backing the quarterstaff insist that the swordsman doesn't have a chance. The staff has longer reach, two ends that are equally effective, and most often is made of ironwood, which a sword won't split. A capable quarterstaff user should
be able to take a capable swordsman with only a little effort - but the key word there is "capable."
The man jumping at Kylin was about as far from capable as you can get while still being alive. His hands began to lift his staff even as he moved, but what he did was raise it all the way to his left and then swing it down fast, almost as though he thought he was holding a cudgel instead of a staff. Kylin ducked under the attack with no effort whatsoever, a brief hesitation at first showing he didn't really believe the stupidity of what was happening, and then his own weapon swung toward the extended body of the fool who had left himself wide open. Homespun does very little to stop the advance of quickly moving steel, which means the fool screamed once before following his swing away and toward the ground.
The remaining men shouted and howled at having lost their leader that quickly and easily, but instead of being smart and giving up on something that had become a bad idea, they proved they were even shorter on brains than the first man had been. They all began to charge toward Kylin, their staffs raised and swinging, and then followed after him as he backed away to give himself adequate fighting room. If they had formed a circle they very well might have had him, but a semi-circle was as close as they came, and they followed along as though they were on a string
Which, of course, gave me time and room to move forward fast to the late fool on the ground, and appropriate his staff for my own use. I wasn't the best ever trained with a quarterstaff, but I knew how to use one and the feel of a weapon in my hands again was like rain after a drought. The staff was smooth-grained and heavy, just the way it should be, far too good a weapon for the fool who had been carrying it. I let my palms slide over its surface in what was almost a caress, and then I turned to those who were looking for a fight.
My former road companion was doing more ducking and jumping than standing and fighting, but only because he had four opponents. If he had kept at it long enough he might have been able to take every one of them, but there was also the possibility that one of the four could have gotten lucky. With me behind them, however, the possibility was no longer in sight, which the first of them discovered when I tapped him on the shoulder with the tip of my staff. He whirled toward me with his weapon in both hands, frowned when he saw who it was who had challenged him, and might have turned back to his original fight if I hadn't used my staff to rap him sharply on the left shin. He howled with the pain of the blow, getting mad at the same time, but he also committed the stupidity I was expecting. He lowered his staff in reflex reaction to the blow that had reached him, leaving his head open and unprotected by either end of his weapon. Flicking my left arm forward I rapped him hard on the head, and that was the end of his anger and his efforts.
My first opponent was only just folding to the ground when one of the remaining three turned and saw what was going on, and decided I would be easier to deal with than the man with the sword. He must have thought I'd come up from behind and gotten his friend that way, and it took a minute or two before he learned better. He actually turned out to know something about the weapon he held, and I had to do some fast swinging, blocking, and moving of my own to keep from getting flattened. After the minute or two I feinted at his head, did it again, then swung the tail of my staff into his groin, nearly lifting him off the ground with the force of the blow. He choked as his arms and legs turned to water, and my head-blow must have come as a great relief to him. No longer feeling the pain, he crumpled into a heap and lay still.
I turned then to see how the last two were doing against Kylin, and discovered that they weren't, at least not any longer. While my attention had been diverted they had both ended up on the ground, and were lying unmoving with bloody wounds in very unhealthy spots. Their former opponent was between them and the site of my own battle, as though he'd been on his way to me when the action had abruptly ended, and even as I looked around he completed the journey.
''I'm not going to waste any more breath making polite, roundabout comments on the way you take orders,'' he said when he reached me, his voice low but a definite growl, his angry eyes matching. ''The next time you ignore a direct order you're in trouble, and you won't be able to say you weren't warned. You're just lucky you weren't hurt, or I wouldn't be waiting for next time."
The only thing that kept me from telling him off then and there was the fact that I couldn't decide which of his imbecilic comments I wanted to tear apart first. I stood there spluttering in outrage, my right hand a fist around the staff as he wiped his sword on his trousers before resheathing it, and then we were surrounded by a horde of laughing, gratefully relieved women who kept me from showing an idiot what real staff-work was like.
''You two were absolutely wonderful," the woman who had spoken to the attackers said from the middle of the women all around us, as happy as they were but slightly calmer about it. "I don't know where you came from, but I don't doubt that Evon guided you in this direction. Thank you, thank you both.''
''Believe me, it was our pleasure," the idiot answered, daring to smile at the woman as he said it. ''Trash like that is always in need of sweeping up. Can you tell us what they were after?''
''Apparently they were after us,'' the woman said, losing a good deal of her happiness. She wore a long print dress much like those worn by the other women, but the way she spoke showed she wasn't entirely village-born and bred. Although the gray in her hair said she was into her fifth under-decade, she appeared strong and better kept than a village woman would be expected to be. She wasn't my size but was fairly tall, had dark hair and eyes, and a plain but very alive face.
''Our village has recently been blessed with the arrival of a new priest of Grail," the woman went on, her words quieting the other women as well. ''Our old priest was a man who was loved as well as liked, and many of us were shocked when he was told he had to leave here. Some tried to argue the point but he didn't; all he did was pack the little he had and then he left. He obeyed the demands of his order without question, and we were left with his replacement."
The woman made a face when she said that, and although the others didn't go quite so far as to do the same, they all looked as though they wanted to.
''The new priest was not only younger, he was also filled with an arrogance unusual to those who serve Grail," the woman said, gesturing with one hand as she tried to clarify the picture her words evoked. ''He made no effort to get to know the people of the village individually, but instead called everyone to a meeting and announced the changes he was here to make in everyone's lives. I don't think we have the time to list all those changes now, and they aren't the main point anyway. The point is that the changes weren't suggestions they were orders, and everyone was to obey without question.
''Needless to say, not everyone went along with obeying," the woman said with a sigh. ''Many of the people felt that the changes were an affront to Grail and his teachings, decided that the new priest was either insane or just plain mistaken, and tried to go on with their lives the way they'd been before the man got here. No more than a day or two went by, and then those who had refused to obey the new priest began having … accidents. Or they were attacked by the trash every village has a few members of, and were badly beaten. In one or two instances it was the family of the man who suffered, like the family of our blacksmith. His wife had gone out herb and berry gathering with two of her friends, three men came across them, the friends got away…By the time help reached her, the three men had already - hurt her badly.''
The woman fell silent for a moment, to quiet the choking fury rising in her, I thought, and then she took a deep breath and went on.
''The new priest gloatingly told everyone that the people who had been having trouble were having it because they refused to obey the demands of Grail. Most of those who had defied the priest were suddenly afraid that that was so, and began to change their lives the way they'd been told to do. Some of the men, though, supported by their families and wives, still refused to go along, saying they didn't believe Grail ha
d had anything to do with what had been happening. The priest was furious but there was nothing he could do to change their minds, not when his threats didn't work. That was a week or two ago, and with the peace and quiet we've been having we thought the trouble was all over with. And then this morning the priest sent messages to all of us, asking us to meet him here to discuss the problem of 'returning lost sheep to the flock,' as he put it. He wanted to appeal to us for our help, his message said, but when we got here there was no sign of him. What we found in his place, you already know."
''And enjoyed dealing with," I said, leaning on the staff I still held. ''I have the distinct impression, though, that you aren't just another part of the victim group. You thanked Evon, as I recall, and the leader of that pack said something about the proposed punishment being 'especially' for you. What did he mean?"
''He meant that my punishment was going to be a special message for my father," she answered, annoyance beginning to rise in her dark eyes. "I'm Indris, and my father is a priest of Evon who came here to live with me a few years ago. I was a Blade when I was young, but I left that life to marry and settle here with my husband. He died a few years ago, and shortly after that my father came to live with me. He's never tried to preach in this village, of course, and he got along well with the old priest of Grail. The new one wants him out, but he's refused to go. This was obviously supposed to give him reason for going.''
''If he's anything like a priest of Evon I know, it would have given him reason to do something else entirely," I remarked, then looked around at the women. ''Is there anyone here who doesn't believe their village will be much better off without this new priest and his new ideas?''
''Of course not,'' the woman Indris said while the others shifted in upset. ''But the people here believe that to do anything to him would be terrible sacrilege. They don't want him, but they can't bring themselves to raise a hand against him."
